


Liminal Time

by eponymous_rose



Series: Tumblr Prompt Meme Responses [8]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponymous_rose/pseuds/eponymous_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Church can't remember the last time he saw three a.m. Tex is keeping an eye out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liminal Time

He read... something, once, about three a.m. being a liminal time. Transitions, beginnings, endings, all that bullshit. Tough to classify. Kind of time you look up from your beer and someone makes a crack about being “up too late... _or is it too early_ ” and you really want to hit them with something heavy and just go find a hole and stop existing until the rest of the world sorts itself out.

Liminal times. Right.

He can’t... look, he can’t really remember the last time he saw three a.m. He just sort of checks out when the others hit their racks, and hell, Caboose is never up that late, Tucker’s curtailed his more obnoxious private-time activities since Tex showed up, and Tex, well. Tex just sort of hangs out because that’s what she does now: she sits on the top of the base and keeps watch in case the Reds attack. If she starts developing a southern accent he’ll be like 90% sure she’s actually turning into Sarge. Which is gonna do wonders for whatever the hell their relationship has been lately. Great.

So, yeah, three a.m. Liminal time. Hardly ever see it. Except... except tonight, he’s sleeping, out like a light as per usual, and then he's awake and the clock in his HUD is blinking 0300, and oh yes, incidentally, his heart is pounding so hard he’s pretty sure it’s going to _Alien_  its way out of his chest. So that’s new.

“Ow,” he says. His chest actually really fucking hurts, in the way it normally reserves for when Caboose is doing something monumentally fantastic for the continued well-being of Blue Team. “Ow, ow, ow. Fuck. Ow.”

“Having some problems, there?”

It’s probably a good thing his heart is already slamming about as fast as it can go, because it actually doesn’t get that much worse when he spots the dark figure standing in the corner of his room. “What the _fuck_ ,” he wheezes. “Tex, what the hell are you doing?!”

“You’re freaking out. I got curious. Thought I’d bring the popcorn.”

“Ow,” Church says, and pulls his knees up to his chest. “If I’m having a heart attack, you are gonna feel like _such_ an asshole.”

She crosses her arms, tilts her head to one side. “Ghosts can’t have heart attacks.”

“Well great! That’s super! You’re so helpful! It completely slipped my mind what a helpful person you are in times of trouble.”

She snorts a laugh, plants a hand on his chest. “Stop squirming, you baby. You always sleep with your armor on?”

And okay, he kinda wants to make a crack about that, but there’s something... “Something’s wrong. Something’s really, really wrong.”

Tex’s hand, splayed out against his chestplate, clenches briefly into a fist. “You’re telling me.”

“No, no, I mean--ow--I mean. I mean there’s something I forgot to do, something I--” He grabs her forearm, digs his fingers under the greaves of her armor, slams his eyes shut. “Someone’s gonna get hurt. I need to--”

He feels the mattress dip down beside him. “Church. You’re fine. You’re freaking out because you had a nightmare.”

“Ghosts don’t have nightmares,” he mutters.

“Yeah, great, look who’s the expert now.” He hears a sharp _plink_  and opens his eyes in time to see her flick a finger against his helmet’s faceplate again. “You gotta stop doing this. You’re gonna freak out the others.”

It’s really fucking weird, but it’s sort of like the weight of her next to him is taking some of the weight off his chest, like it’s all rolling downhill, away from him. He takes a deep breath. The physical construct he’s possessing as a motherfucking ghost takes the illusion of a deep breath. Whatever. It helps. He relaxes his grip on her arm, rests a hand over her hand, over his chest. “You are so full of shit,” he says, softly. “I never have nightmares.”

“Yeah,” Tex says, “you do. You just forget them in the morning.” She pulls her hand out from under his, balls it up and raps her knuckles against the side of his head. “Get back to sleep. It’s way too early in the morning for this shit.”

“You mean it’s _too late_ ,” Church says, and kinda hates himself for how quickly he says it.

“Nah,” Tex says. “Executive decision. I’m calling it. It’s morning.”

She stands, and for a second he’s worried that the weight will settle on his chest again, but... but no. No. He’s just... tired.

She walks over to the other side of the room, leans against the wall with her arms crossed. Keeping watch. 

Three a.m. Liminal time. New beginning.

Church closes his eyes. He doesn’t dream.


End file.
